


homecoming

by kafkaesques



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafkaesques/pseuds/kafkaesques
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouyou comes home. But, before that, he has to make a detour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Shouyou is running away.

How far he's already run, for how long, where he's run by - he doesn't know, doesn't need to know as long as his legs keep carrying him. He has nothing on him except his clothes and his phone, so he should -

He has nothing on him.

Nothing. His Karasuno jersey, thin shorts, volleyball shoes, his phone. Nothing else.

Not even his uniform.

He stops, almost toppling over, but manages. He straightens his back and turns to the direction he's come from. It's dark, and he's crossed the mountain, and _it's dark_ , goddamnit. If his mother knew he'd crossed the mountains at this hour -

Shouyou's thoughts falter there, like a record interrupted. His mother ... would probably not care anymore if he is reported missing, or found dead in some alleyway, or ... worse.

A chill runs through Shouyou's body, even though it's summer and, well, night, and so unbearably hot Shouyou wasn't even sad when practice ended that day. The chill is there, though, and it lingers, it won't go away.

Well, shit, what now. Shouyou can't go back there. Shouyou knows he can't. He knows his mother knows he can't. He's fucked, technically. Okay, so, three options, and they'll all amount to the same thing.

One, Shouyou could go to school without his uniform and school supplies. Two, he could never go to school ever again and go live, cloistered, in the forest. Three, he could go back and face his mother.

Either way, he won't be going to Karasuno anymore. Option One and Two will result in him getting kicked out, whereas if he chooses Option Three, his mother will most likely withdraw him from Karasuno and send him to some military school.

He doesn't want either of that, if he is being honest.

So, after a moment of hesitation, he takes out his phone and goes through his contacts.

* * *

"Hey, Shouyou, what's up? You shouldn't be up this late, you know, or captain will get mad if you half-ass practice tomorrow!"

"Um. I ..."

"Is something wrong? Your voice sounds really weird."

"Ah, well, it's nothing, really! I was just ..."

"Just ... ?"

"Could you, um ..."

"Yes ... ?"

"Could you, um, maybe ... do me a favour, Nishi- ... Nishinoya-senpai?"

* * *

"Come in," Nishinoya says as he steps to the side.

Shouyou sends him the brightest smile he can manage while his insides are all twisted up and wrong. "Thanks," he says, breathless, because panic is still suffocating him, and, oh god, his heart is pounding way too fast for it to be healthy. It's so loud in his own ears, too, that he can't imagine the other not hearing it. In case he does hear, he can at least smile (or try) and tell him, well, he'd been running, so.

If he does hear it, he doesn't call him out on it. Shouyou is twice as thankful as he was before.

"Don't mention it," Nishinoya says instead, closing the door behind him. "I'm your senpai, after all, so ..."

"Hm," is all Shouyou can get out, because the second the door closes, a new wave of panic almost sends him onto his knees. He feels like a caged animal, for some reason. And, worse: an animal that walked right into a trap on its own accord. He feels out of place, awkward, wrong. Very much the way he felt an hour ago, when he dashed past his mother, out of his house.

But this is different, he tells himself, because this is Nishinoya, and unlike his mother, he doesn't even know -

He doesn't know. Doesn't know _what_ is wrong. Probably wouldn't ask if he could sense that something is, in fact, wrong. After all, that's why Shouyou chose him over Sugawara. Of course, by default, almost, Sugawara is nice and gentle and a generally pleasant person. But still ... Sugawara asks questions. Not to be nosy or indecent, just because. Because he wants to help, Shouyou likes to think. And he appreciates that, really, but he doesn't need help. Not yet, at least. What he needs is a place to spend a few nights until he's figured out a better solution. Oh, and he needs someone who doesn't ask questions he can't answer.

"What happened?" Nishinoya asks, a strange and completely unknown undertone to his voice, and it stops Shouyou in his tracks.

Maybe he'd been wrong about Nishinoya not asking questions, after all.

He turns to his upperclassman, his facial muscles straining weirdly as he tries to smile. Smile, smile it all away, he keeps thinking, as if it helps.

"Hm?" he asks, to win time and hide his panic. Well, part of it.

Nishinoya isn't looking at his face, though. Shouyou follows his gaze to his calves, deathly white in the pale light of Nishinoya's corridor. Except for a few stray spots that were -

His heart starts pounding once more.

"Oh," he gets out, because oh. Those were not there when he ran out of his front door.

"What'd you do?" Nishinoya asks, his eyes wandering up to bore into Shouyou's, not necessarily in a way that makes him uncomfortable, except it makes him extremely uncomfortable and his legs start trembling as he feels the all too familiar urge to run away crawl through him, down his spine and up his chest and deep in his stomach. Nishinoya's face remains expressionless, except for the slight arch of his left eyebrow, and why the hell is Shouyou so observant all of a sudden, oh yes, because he's having fight-or-flight again.

"Oh," he croaks out, struggling to clear his throat. He might as well just tell the truth: He fell down an embankment. That is the truth, and there's really nothing more to it. That is the truth, and it will most likely not even surprise Nishinoya, because everyone on the team knows he's clumsy and easily drawn to the ground. That was the truth, ridiculously enough, so why. Why the hell. Does he decide to lie.

"Oh, those!" he finds himself stuttering, hand flying up to his hair to grip it; a habit of him, accompanying every lie he told. "Um, I practised receiving. Like you! I mean, not that I'll ever be as good as you, senpai ..."

He positively wants to die. He really shouldn't be lying to his senpai like this. Or anyone, for that matter.

"Ah, stop it," Nishinoya says, as expected, hands waving frantically in front of his face, "you're making me blush!" Meanwhile, Shouyou is bathing in guilt already. "And don't overdo it, okay?" Oh, and shame. "We'll need you at your best at the next match!" And, well, even more anxiety.

"Of course!" he chokes out half-heartedly.

Nishinoya smiles widely, the way he always does, and Shouyou is relieved for exactly a seventeenth of a second, because then Nishinoya's eyes stray to the bruises on his legs once more, and _god damn it how low can one stomach drop in such a short body_. Luckily, his senpai leaves it at that, only to look at Shouyou's hands, which are - surprise, surprise - empty.

"By the way, where's all your stuff?" he asks, and Shouyou promises himself that next time - not that he ever wants a next time - he'll pick Tanaka, because, _fuck_ , when did Nishinoya become so perceptive. "Didn't you say ... ?"

He trailed off, not finishing the question, but Shouyou knows exactly what he's getting at. _Didn't you say you were going to crash here?_ His throat is as tight as ever, except even more, and it really is a miracle he can still speak. "Um, I'm sorry, Noya-senpai," he says, shakily, hoping the excessive use of the honorific wasn't too conspicuous, but - knowing his acting skills - it probably was. God damn it. "I forgot it at home. But, um, it's okay! I - um." He swallowed, or tried, desperately, but his throat remained locked tight with whatever, who cares what it is, he feels like he's dying at the spot.

"Or is it ... ?" he croaks out, pathetically, looking straight into Nishinoya's eyes with an expression he hoped matched how he felt. Which was, well, best described as miserable. Really, really miserable. I-just-want-to-curl-up-in-my-bed-and-never-get-out-again kind of miserable.

"Hey, no sweat," Nishinoya says, and his smile is still there, almost as if affixed permanently, only less bright, less glowing. "If you don't mind borrowing my clothes."

He does mind, actually, because he doesn't like borrowing anything from others. Something his mother indoctrinated. But if it means he can stay, he'll borrow anything. "No, it's okay."

Nishinoya smiles again, and that's really weird, because he's smiling all the time, or has for the past minute, and Shouyou can sense that something is very, very wrong. He's led upstairs, into Nishinoya's room. It feels strange, and he hasn't given it any thought yet, but he remembers now that it's been over a year since he's last spent the night at a friend's house. He was in junior high, still. And things were different, then, too, because he wasn't at a friend's house in order to hide. He didn't run away. He didn't have to.

"I'm sure they'll fit you," Nishinoya interrupts his nostalgia, throwing a pile at Shouyou, expecting him to catch. Like many volleyballs he's failed to receive, the clothes hit him right in the face. It's not bad, really, and not as hard as a volleyball, but he's so taken aback that he reels and collapses onto Nishinoya's bed right behind him.

"Argh," he yells and quickly clamps a hand over his mouth, because he's being impolite and generally shitty by shouting around like that. Also, the hell is he doing on Nishinoya's bed. He jumps up faster than he's ever managed and bows once, but deeply. "Thanks!"

He doesn't get an answer, so he looks up worriedly, only to catch Nishinoya still eyeing his legs, and what the fuck. The fuck is he supposed to do. He knows he's fucked. He knows Nishinoya knows. Nishinoya doesn't know _what_ , but he knows _something_ , that _something_ is wrong, and that's bad, because. It leaves everything to the imagination, and Shouyou doesn't even want to start thinking about what Nishinoya might imagine.

"Um," he says intelligently, clearing his throat.

Luckily, his senpai finally snaps out of - whatever trance he's been in. But the smile he directs at Shouyou is wrong, and awkward and misplaced, and Shouyou knows more than ever that he's fucked.

"I'm going to lay out the futon," is the last thing Nishinoya says to Shouyou that day, because a minute later, when he returns to his room with the guest futon, the redhead is already a dead weight on his bed.

* * *

Shouyou dreams. He dreams of warm meadows and wide landscapes and chilly shadows, and he dreams of a hand around his wrist, firm and digging into his flesh, that keeps him from falling, and Shouyou dreams of an endless blue or grey sky, and while he is asleep and dreaming, Shouyou is okay, Shouyou is safe, and if he died now, he'd die happy.

Shouyou wakes up and the dream is gone and the images are lost in his unconsciousness. The feeling of warmth is still there, though.

* * *

"Hey, Shouyou, wake up. Hey, no, don't fall asleep again!"

"Oh. Um. My uniform. I don't have it."

"Oh. Right. Do you think you can make it home and to school in time?"

"Huh? Wha-? N-no, I don't think so."

"All right. Then you'll have to borrow one of mine."

"I'm really sorry to inconvenience you!"

"No sweat. I'm your senpai after all, aren't I? Though I can't help you with your school stuff ... "

* * *

The second he lays his eyes on Kageyama, he remembers. The dream, that is, and the phantom feeling of Kageyama's hand around his wrist, pulling him back from whatever embankment he was about to tumble down. It's awkward, and tense, and Shouyou has to turn away. He doesn't know why, he just has to, before his brain short-circuits. Kageyama is still waiting outside, where they'd normally meet to race each other to the gym, and he feels really guilty, because _Kageyama is still waiting for him even though he's almost half an hour later than usual_ and he's officially the worst friend ever.

Kageyama greets them with a nod, not saying anything until later, after they've changed for morning practice.

"The hell did you do, idiot?" he hears Kageyama ask, and turns around to find the other staring at his exposed arms, similar to the way Nishinoya stared at his legs last night, and he wants to die, because this is Kageyama, and he can't possibly let Kageyama know. It's bad enough he has to lend Nishinoya's clothes for both class and practice. And probably destroyed his entire life in only one night.

He absolutely can't lose Kageyama's friendship.

"Receiving practice," he deadpans, averting his eyes, because he's always been exceptionally bad at lying. Every pore of his body screamed for him to tell at least _Kageyama_ the truth, because he just should, right? But then again, hell no, he shouldn't, if Kageyama finds out, he'll surely -

"With?"

Shouyou's movements come to an abrupt halt at that one. Because, of all things in the world, he does not expect that one. He expected Kageyama to just take it, _come on_ , since he's always the one to point out how shitty Shouyou's receives are. "Um," he says intelligently, and continues lying - what else is there to do now, he thinks bitterly, as he answers, "Noya-san."

He doesn't see it, but he can _feel_ it, can actually _hear_ it in his voice: Kageyama narrows his eyes. And probably frowns even more. "When," he barks.

Kageyama sounds genuinely upset, and Shouyou's completely lost - Kageyama is never upset when he mentions he's practiced. Up until now Shouyou didn't know that Kageyama is capable of being upset about practice. The hell.

"Yesterday evening," Shouyou says, confused, climbing further down his spiral of lies. To hell with it, he might as well, he thinks as he adds, "He tried to teach me the Rolling Thunder, hah, but I guess I still need to improve before -"

"Stop bothering your senpai for everything," Kageyama interrupts, shifting from mere irritation to anger, for whatever reason. Shouyou can't help but look at him now, to maybe get a hint about what stick is up Kageyama's ass that causes him to act so ... so. But there's just Kageyama, grumpy and morose as ever.

"You could have just asked _me_ ," Kageyama adds, voice low and quiet, before Shouyou can ask him if he got out of the wrong side of his bed this morning.

So that's what's bothering him. Well, okay, but it still makes zero sense. Shouyou is tempted to remind him that, whenever he does ask Kageyama, he's being yelled at about how he should go bother someone else. But then Kageyama would deny it, and Shouyou would insist, and they'd argue on and on until Daichi's sinister aura would interrupt.

And Shouyou's really, really not in the mood for that.

"... Right," he says instead, turning away from the other so he doesn't have to see his face when he mumbles, "Sorry, Kageyama."

* * *

And that's that, and everything's normal, except for the glances Kageyama keeps sending his way.

In other words: He knows he's doomed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. idk what happened tbh. (school. school happened. blame school.) (and my other fic.) so, yeah, sorry for the delay.

Kageyama is pissed. And not the kind of pissed Shouyou is used to; not the kind of pissed he can somehow handle. Kageyama is pissed, immensely. He's on that level of pissed where he doesn't shout or throw insults at Shouyou. Kageyama is silently pissed, which - Shouyou knows - is the worst kind. Kageyama is scary by default, really. But this Kageyama ...

Worst of all, Shouyou has no idea as to why Kageyama is pissed. At him, to be precise. He's spiked nine out of ten tosses during practice that day, kept his receives stable and his serves away from Kageyama's head. Shouyou's done nothing wrong, really.

Okay, yeah, he might have run away after messing up his entire family and emotionally scarring his mother, but that has nothing to do with Kageyama, and there's just no way that blockhead knows. There's no way he's ... figured ... anything ... out ...

No way. No way, right? Right.

Shouyou is running away again, that day, but from Kageyama, who is waiting by the gate after practice, deathly silent and featuring a scowl that could potentially scare any living being away. He looks like he's about to say something as soon as Shouyou walks up to him, so he quickly stutters out an excuse to go back to the clubroom, which he does, then, except he _runs_. For his life, that is, and into Nishinoya and Tanaka, who are just about to leave as well. He thanks God and the heavens (not really, though) for this unexpected turn of fate, and latches himself onto those two, like they're a life line. Which they are, kind of. Kageyama might harass him in front of others, but he won't hack him to pieces.

(Probably. Hopefully.)

Practice was over too soon, anyway - as always for Shouyou, but this time there's a punchline. This time, rather than wanting to stay, Shouyou really just doesn't want to go home. Can't, really. He knows _she_ has the day off, which means she'll be there the second he enters the hallway, and the thought alone has him trail after Nishinoya on his way home.

He supposes Tanaka is looking at him weird when he does, but he really does physically feel Kageyama's glare in his back. Nishinoya, however, doesn't question it at all. The few things Shouyou had on him the previous night are still at his house, after all, so it's only logical for Shouyou to come with him, right? It is, right? Nishinoya thinks so, too, as he tells him after they've parted with the others.

"And you're still wearing my uniform," Nishinoya reminds him, grinning, and - yeah, exactly, he wants to say, but he's sure he's going to choke on those words, so he opts to smile it, smile it all away, the way he always does.

* * *

He doesn't really know how it happens, but, well, it happens. Nishinoya doesn't ask questions, which is both reassuring and concerning at the same time. He should be, he should really be asking questions. And Shouyou should be answering them.

(It occurs to him later that maybe, like Shouyou doesn't know what to answer, Nishinoya might just not know what to ask.)

Shouyou should be going home, he knows that, he really does know. Shouyou should do a lot of things, he notes, from actually practising his receives over doing his homework to - lastly - going home. He should, he knows, but when Nishinoya offers to "extend the sleepover" ... he can't say no to his senpai, can he? Yes, he can, and he should, and he knows that. He knows very well, but the thought of facing his mother alone has him accept, all too eagerly.

He doesn't manage his obligatory squealing, however, because the last twenty-four hours have been too tiring, so he'd really just like to curl up into a ball beneath the blankets, _thank you_ , but when he notices Nishinoya's stare, he realises with a tug of his heart that maybe, likely, probably he's fucked up. Majorly.

And yet, when they're both exhausted and ready and tucked up, when Nishinoya goes to turn off the light, when Shouyou wants to just shut his eyes to this world, his problems - all his teammate decides to ask his, "Hey, Shouyou - your parents know about this, right?"

Honestly, Shouyou's instincts tell him to jolt upright and dash off, like he's done ... an awful lot lately. But he doesn't, because he's frozen, rooted to the spot in the futon, tongue-tied and kind of, sort of, at a total loss. He looks over at his upperclassman, sees the crease between his eyebrows and something in his eyes he doesn't recognise.

With a start, he understands: No matter what he's going to say, Nishinoya will see right through it. And, worst of all, if Nishinoya is being lied to, he'll probably let it happen, even just in this case.

For a second or two, Shouyou again actually considers telling him, spilling everything. It's been building up in just a day, and he can barely keep it in anymore. But that's the problem. That's the problem, because he's so upset and worked up and weary at the same time, his words will end up stumbled and in disarray. At this point, the lump in his throat is so restricting that he might even choke on the sentences as they form in his chest, and he'll end up suffocating and crying - and yet, still, running away. Nishinoya might understand, but there's the much bigger, much more probable chance that he might _not_ understand, and Shouyou can't let that happen, he won't let that happen, he won't let himself ruin his life any further.

So what seemed so easy and doable a few seconds before has somehow become his very personal end of the world, and he cannot and will not let it happen. He can't, not today, not when the waterworks start kicking in and his heart is having dangerous palpitations.

With a forced smile that hurts his face, he croaks out, "Of course!" Then, as it's drilled into his mind, "Thanks again!"

He looks again, and - yeah. Shit.

Nishinoya knows. Nishinoya _definitely_ knows, because Nishinoya isn't as ignorant as he seems and Shouyou couldn't lie if his life depended on it. Which it more or less does, in this case.

But no matter _what_ Nishinoya knows - he doesn't ask anything else.

* * *

That night, Shouyou learns that there's an important difference between sleepy and tired. He's dead inside, from running away and running further away, exhausted and ready to conk out - except not at all. He stays awake, because he's tired, not sleepy. He stays awake, because no matter for how long he keeps his eyes shut, his thoughts just won't let him drift away.

And at the end of it all - at the beginning of another day of running away - he realises just what exactly the word _tired_ means.

But he's glad, in a way. Like that, his problems can't chase him in his dreams, where he has even less control of it all.

* * *

Kageyama is still pissed, and Shouyou still doesn't know why. His mother still hasn't called, and Nishinoya still won't ask any questions when he invites Shouyou over again.

Then, somehow, it's been forty-eight hours, and Shouyou is still running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why i always make my little baby crow suffer. i guess i'm trash. oh well.
> 
> (once again, i'm really sorry.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow look who finally updated

The night goes by, then, without any sleep. Oddly enough, all Shouyou can think about is Kageyama, and how to face him, or how not to be the worst best friend this earth has ever seen. He's scared; he's _terrified_ , but he has a feeling it's still less frightening than thinking about home.

Whatever home is to him, these days.

* * *

Admittedly, he _is_ disappointed that, after more than forty-eight hours, she hasn't even tried to call him.

And it's weird, that he's disappointed, because how can you be disappointed if you've never had any expectations to begin with? He doesn't know, he doesn't _know,_ but why -

"Shouyou!" Nishinoya shouts, and the other winces so badly he ends up knocking his head against the ground. Nishinoya looks apologetic for about a split second, then he bolts up in his bed with his trademark grin, and reminds him, "School!"

And it's enough to make Shouyou heave a sigh and bury his head in the pillow. He might just look like any other student in the morning - dead tired and about ready to do anything _except_ to go to school. But in reality, it's much, _much_ worse than that, or feels worse, because anxiety keeps churning his insides. It's just there, somehow, without any trace as to where it came from or signs as to when it will finally leave, and it's familiar, too, kind of, except not. Before matches, he can try and go vomit, and it will work (unfortunately) most of the time. It won't go away, but it'll be better, if just a little.

This, he knows without testing, he can't just puke out.

* * *

When a message finally arrives, it's at the completely wrong time, and ... just ... Shouyou would be better off dead, he decides when he leaves the bathroom to find Nishinoya crouched over his futon, staring down, face tense and contorted and looking very, very constipated.

Like Kageyama, most of the time, Shouyou concludes before he can stop himself. It's bad, he knows, that in any situation his thoughts stray in that direction, but it isn't like he didn't try to ... cure himself of this. It's what got him into this mess in the first place - running away from home, living on Nishinoya, being an awful friend and teammate and human in general.

And when Nishinoya finally looks up at him, Shouyou sees it: his phone, next to the pillow, the display showing one new message.

"Um, Shouyou," Nishinoya starts, but Shouyou doesn't want to hear the rest. He snatches the phone, hiding it from Nishinoya's gaze like he can afford to pretend this is all nothing, this never happened, what even happened? He's out in just a second, leaving Nishinoya to think all the wrong (right) things.

* * *

_Where are you?_

Shouyou barks out a curt laugh when he reads the message, because ... because ... of all the things she could ask, she chose this?

Impressive, he thinks, then notices how badly he's shaking. And not from laughter, either.

* * *

 _Please, come home_ , reads the next.

The third is, _Let's talk._

And it just goes downhill from there.

* * *

He tries, at school. He really does.

(He doesn't.)

He'd fall asleep, honestly, if he wasn't so on edge. His nerves are buzzing, stomach churning, head spinning.

He wants to excuse himself, go to the infirmary, maybe home, before he remembers.

He no longer has a home to go to. Not really, anyway.

* * *

"Shouyou?"

His head snaps up. He expected Kageyama, somehow, even though it's not Kageyama's voice, or tone, and Kageyama probably wouldn't even call him by his first name if his life depended on it.

It's okay, Shouyou thinks. It's okay that there's distance, now, maybe more than ever before. It's okay if it's Nishinoya (who else, really?) instead of Kageyama standing behind him, worried, concerned, and it's okay, too, that Kageyama just doesn't worry about him, only worries about the team, the dynamic, only about volleyball. It's okay, because Shouyou is the same. They're the same, that way, but they're not one.

And that's okay, too.

"Yes?"

They're alone. He hears faint noises from inside the club room, where the others are, his team, his _friends_ , and when he hears them and - at the same time - sees Nishinoya's expression, he feels bad, feels guilty, feels like a piece of shit. He probably is, really, keeping secrets from them like that, and generally doing things that might mess everything up for the team, or his family, or his life.

Oh, well.

"Is everything all right?" Nishinoya asks quietly, as if someone might hear, but they're _alone_ , really. Shouyou looks around once more, to check, and - yeah, they're alone, and he really needs for Nishinoya to stop being quiet, to stop being so earnest. It doesn't fit, somehow - Nishinoya can be quiet, and he can be earnest, but he can't, shouldn't _have_ to be both at once.

The guilt rises cold and heavy in his sides. It's his fault. It _is_ his fault. The Kageyama situation, the Nishinoya situation, _and_ the fact that he happens to be kind of more or less homeless.

It's all his fault. He knows it. He knows it, God, he does.

"Yeah," he says, smiling. It's what he's good at, after all. It's difficult to remember how you normally act when ... well, when you're not who you usually are, when you're weighed down, crushed, defeated. It's hard to find the strength to smile when all he wants to do is sink to his knees and admit it, admit it all, and then - maybe, eventually - ask for forgiveness.

But for now, he can still smile, somehow.

So he does.

* * *

"If you feel bad, you should sit out."

Shouyou whips his head around to the voice he's been dreading (hoping to hear) the entire day, to face Kageyama. Kageyama, who is still awfully silent, and silently angry, apparently.

(He doesn't even want to start thinking about the implications in Kageyama's words.)

Surely Kageyama hopes to ... get a reaction out of him, and he'd get one, maybe, on any other day. But today, instead of yelling out a defiant _But I don't wanna sit out!_ Shouyou stops and thinks (ha), stops and looks at his teammates, already mid-practice, mid-movement, loud and eager to please, even more eager to win, gain, climb higher and higher, so many steps ahead he might not ever keep pace, not even if he tried, not even in -

_No. I can't. I can't, I can't - I'm weighing them down. I'm weighing myself down, and I'm pulling them with me every step of the way. I can't, not today, I shouldn't._

He glances back at Kageyama, who is staring now, probably wondering why Shouyou is actually considering sitting out.

(Oh, if he knew. But he won't, he will absolutely not know, if Shouyou can somehow prevent it.)

"Sure," he says, and that's it.

* * *

It's been a bit over sixty hours when Shouyou counts eleven messages and five missed calls on his mobile.

And guess what.

He's still running, and running, even though he's currently crouched on the floor, hugging his knees, listening to the too familiar sound of shoes scraping over the gym floor.

And he still has a long way to go.

* * *

"Shouyou?"

"Yes?"

"If something's on your mind ... you can talk to me, you know. I might not be able to help you, but I'm good at listening. Okay, maybe not, but ... you can talk to me, okay? Or any of us. Okay?"

"I know, Noya-san. It's just ... nothing's on my mind."

"Oh."

"Still. Thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
